


undo your suicide

by crownedcarl



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:06:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcarl/pseuds/crownedcarl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mission comes first. Ray already knows that he’s insignificant in the eyes of time and space and his little hurts don’t matter one bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	undo your suicide

**Author's Note:**

> first things first: the doc for this fic was literally titled "ray palmer sadfic" so i hope y'all realize what you're getting into
> 
> secondly: i didn't use the non-con archive warning bc it's never explicitly depicted. i chose to warn for implied/referenced non-con instead. there is a fair amount of internalized victim-blaming within this fic, to boot
> 
> thirdly: the sara/ray relationship isn't the main element of this fic. there's a brief mention of a sexual but otherwise platonic relationship between them, but nothing more
> 
> finally: i have no idea what i'm doing but i hope my filth is the filth for y'all. go forth & Suffer

Ray showers, but he finds no comfort or relaxation under the warm spray. He feels off-balance as he braces one hand against the smooth tiled wall, exhaling heavily as he allows himself a moment to come down.

He’s been tortured before, but only the once – he thinks that comparatively, this time should have been easy. There was no electrical current coursing through his body and nobody took a hammer to his back, but a part of him seems to have come disjointed during the ordeal.

There’s a voice in the back of his head that reminds him that this was his own fault. He compromised the mission and the lives of everyone involved; not only did he lose the trust of his teammates, but he risked the future of the entire world. He feels stupid, wallowing in self-pity as his skin starts to turn pink from the hot water, but he can’t make himself go back and apologize yet.

He showers twice that day but doesn’t feel clean.

-

Ray has never been a very good liar. He fumbles with his words and can’t quite speak with enough confidence to fool anyone when he’s making things up, but that makes it both a relief and a surprise when even Sara doesn’t see through his fake smiles.

There would be no point in bringing up the consequences of his capture when he brought it on himself. He doesn’t flinch when Snart acidly proclaims that whatever Ray went through, he deserved, but Ray is careful to avoid him that day, tucking himself away to work on the suit in silence. He should feel relieved that nobody comes to look for him when he does, in fact, want to be alone, but it only strengthens his resolve to do better. There’s always a next time and next time, Ray won’t be the weak link.

The water runs hot, too hot. Ray scrubs himself until his skin hurts.

-

_Something bad happened to me, something awful._

The words sit on his tongue as he watches Sara sparring with Kendra. Ray has been considering asking Sara for combat advice. He wants to be strong like her. He wants to be able to control who can get close enough to hurt him.

 _Something bad happened to me_ , he thinks, simultaneously willing someone to notice while hoping desperately that they never do. All of them have been through bad things and Ray’s tragedy seems unimportant in the long run. Sara died. Rip lost his family.

Ray has lost things, too. He fidgets with the screwdriver in his hands, startling himself as he loses his grip and the tool clatters to the floor. It makes Sara turn to him with a frown, mouth pursed. She’s been teaching Kendra to do battle for a while now and Ray realizes, suddenly, that he’s intruding. He’s a distraction.

“You mind-?” Sara intones, subtly asking Ray to get the hell out of there if he’s going to be an annoyance. Ray takes the hint and leaves, trying to persuade himself not to let the words get to him. Sara doesn’t mean it, anyway. They’re friends. They’re teammates.

Ray is trying to be more useful. He’s trying to learn things that would benefit them all but the problem with wanting to learn is that nobody seems willing to give him the time of day, lately, after his massive screw-up in 1992.

Everyone seems happier when he makes himself quiet. He thought making himself small was the best he could do, but he learns not to intrude or interrupt as the days – decades – pass by aboard the Waverider. Ray makes an effort to go along with plans he doesn’t agree with; his judgement has proven to be spotty at best and Rip seems pleased with the changes he’s making. He snaps at Ray less. It feels like he cares less, too, but Ray doesn’t mind. He understands now more than ever that he can be a nuisance and a hindrance and all he wants to do is be a part of this mission. He wants to be a part of this so badly that having to sacrifice little pieces of himself isn’t a terrible price to pay.

-

There are no vivid nightmares or visceral flashbacks. Ray carries the memory around like a dear old friend, but he’s managing. He’s realized that there’s very little point in bringing up something that never mattered in the first place and he even feels alright, sometimes, when there are more important things at hand than reliving something awful.  


In the grand scheme of things, Ray needs to be alright.

-

(There’s a word for what happened to him but Ray has forced himself not to think about it. He doesn’t cry and he doesn’t tremble and he doesn’t speak about it.)

-

Ray is beyond ecstatic to be one of the people selected for their next covert mission but he makes an effort not to show it. Sara will be going, too. Snart will be their backup at the event they’re meant to infiltrate and while Sara looks calm and professional, Snart looks vaguely bored and yet somehow pleased. Ray doesn’t need to gush about how excited he is to be going along, so he only nods when Rip’s stern gaze lands on him, vowing to himself to show them that he can improve and not be a liability.

It’s a dance. Ray is tempted to ask Sara to join him on the dance-floor to strengthen their cover, but she gravitates towards Snart and Ray is left feeling unnecessary, standing alone at the bar with an untouched drink in front of him.

Rip’s voice is in his ear, addressing all three of them at once. “ _You see the gentleman with the bodyguards?_ ” he intones as Ray turns his head in an attempt to spot said gentleman; he finds him by the fountain in the middle of the room, three men discreetly surrounding him, creating a barrier between their boss and the rest of the room. “ _We need the electronic key-card he has on him. If it comes to it, you may have to fight him to get it, but only if things get truly desperate_.”

Ray thinks he can see Sara mouthing _got_ it as Rip quiets down and he figures she has it under control. Snart is by her side and their heads are together as they’re conversing; as Ray does a little half-turn to incline his head at them, inquiring about the plan, Sara shakes her head.

He isn’t needed.

There is a moment during the dance where the bartender slides a drink over to him and as Ray hastens to say that he didn’t order it, the man simply says “From the gentleman at the end of the bar,” and gestures subtly to Ray’s left.

His heart skips a beat as he realizes that the man in question is the one Sara was meant to seduce. He is still flanked by his bodyguards but his posture is more relaxed as he smiles at Ray, raising his glass in a toast. Ray hesitantly mirrors the gesture and it seems to be the cue for the man to walk up to him, bodyguards remaining close.

This has all gone very wrong. Rip is oddly silent but there is a sudden rush of words as he urges Ray to get closer; they need that key-card and Ray wonders how far Sara would go for this mission, if she’d do something she didn’t want to.

He can see her watching out of the corner of his eye. It makes him flush nervously. “Thank you,” Ray tells his admirer, smiling hesitantly, wishing he was better at this. He needs to save this mission. This is their only shot. “Are you here alone?”

It’s more forward than what Ray would usually say in a situation like this but the man only smiles, looking very non-threatening. It only puts Ray on edge. “Not technically _alone_ ,” he emphasizes, tilting his head at the men forming a semi-circle around him. “I certainly hope I won’t be leaving alone. I’m Alistair.”

Oh, Ray thinks, stunned. Oh.

“Ray,” he returns, holding out his hand. Alistair has a firm grip and strong fingers, his eyes never wavering from Ray’s as they regard one another. “I-“ Ray starts, finishing off his drink, reminding himself that the mission is bigger than his reservations, managing a smile as that truth sinks in. “I might be able to help you with that.”

He wishes that Rip would have the forethought to turn off the comms; Alistair guides him into a sleek car with reinforced paneling and a smooth leather interior, leaning too close as they drive away. Rip would normally be berating Ray for his recklessness in letting himself be whisked away by a mark and a threat, but he must understand that this is their best and only shot at getting what they need.

Ray arrives in Alistair’s upscale hotel suite at ten minutes to midnight. He leaves at seven in the morning, key-card tucked in his pocket and a metallic taste behind his teeth.  


“I got it,” he says as soon as he walks aboard the Waverider, handing the key-card over to Rip without waiting for a reaction, turning right around. He doesn’t feel comfortable with the whole team gathered around, feeling naked under all the eyes that are watching him. “I’m going to get some rest.”

He doesn’t. He sheds his clothes and falls into the familiar routine of standing beneath the scalding spray of the shower, sinking to the floor once his knees buckle. His back is against the wall as he puts his head between his knees, biting the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood.

 _I had to_ , he tells himself. _I had to do it. Nobody else could. It was the right thing to do for the mission_.

The mission comes first. Ray already knows that he’s insignificant in the eyes of time and space and his little hurts don’t matter one bit. There’s a knock at his door at some point and Sara shouting “Ray? You coming out?” but after a while, she leaves and Ray exhales in relief as he’s left alone.

His reflection looks the same. Tired, maybe, but that’s nothing new. There’s nothing different about him; no visible mark branding him with the evidence of his mistakes and failures, his body remaining unchanged.

He isn’t thinking as he digs his nails into the thin skin of his wrist, curious to see how much it’ll hurt. Ray doesn’t feel anything until he accidentally pierces the skin and hisses sharply, watching a drop of blood well to the surface. He shouldn’t be so shocked, but something recoils from that sight, feeling overwhelmingly nauseous.

Ray stays in his room that night; he feigns sleep when Sara comes knocking again.

-

“I need to speak with you,” Rip says quietly, piercing Ray with his eyes. Ray can handle Rip’s anger and his disappointment but to see both reflected in his eyes at once – it makes Ray want to fold in on himself, feeling small and hesitant as he follows Rip into the captain’s quarters. Some of the others are lounging outside, but Rip shuts the door firmly, effectively rendering their conversation private.

He stares at Ray for a long time once they’re alone and before he can speak, Ray blurts “I’m sorry,” and then cringes, because he’s been trying really hard to not cause any friction and now he’s gone and annoyed Rip. He always seems to be doing everything wrong. “I’m sorry, I am. I – I know I’m pulling the team down but I’ll do better. I promise, I really will. I’m trying.”

“I,” Rip begins to say and now, to Ray’s surprise, the captain looks – sad, Ray thinks, but he might just be projecting. “I didn’t call you here to criticize you, Mister Palmer. I wanted to speak to you about a matter that Gideon has recently brought to my attention.”

Ray has no idea how to respond to that. He knows that Gideon is capable of monitoring them at all hours of the day but he doesn’t remember doing anything noteworthy, least of all to the A.I that runs the ship. He takes a seat as Rip gestures for him to do so, nervously fidgeting as another long silence stretches between them.

“Mister Palmer,” Rip sighs heavily, “ _Ray_. I understand that things went sideways in 1992 during our mission-“

A cold dread tugs at Ray’s insides. “And that you seemed… _affected_ …by both your time held captive and how we,” he pauses, “How _I_ reacted to it.”

“Oh, no-“ Ray interrupts, “There’s no need to apologize for anything, really. I got myself into a mess and-“

“Please,” Rip cuts in, his expression serious enough that Ray shuts up and directs his eyes to the floor, more nervous than he thought he’d be. “A team cannot be built on a rocky foundation, as I’m sure you know. I fear that we were all blinded by our collective disappointment and failure that we punished you unfairly for it, in the end.”

Ray looks up at that, frowning, but Rip continues. “You were interrogated. You were injured and you needed support that we failed to give you and for that, I am truly sorry. But,” Rip emphasizes as Ray tries to keep himself composed, “I’m afraid an apology isn’t the only thing I called you here for. Gideon has noticed your recent behavior.”

Ray hasn’t done anything wrong. What could Gideon possibly have reported on? “You spend an average of two hours showering per day. You have been withdrawn and furthermore, you’ve been isolating yourself from this team. Gideon tells me that after your return from our most recent mission, you spent the entire night in the bathroom, presumably showering.”

“I,” Ray says, trying to laugh it off, but his voice fails him. “I shower a lot? That’s the big issue, captain?”

“No,” Rip disagrees, “The big issue is that something happened to you that dramatically altered your behavior. I’m no expert, but I can think of a reason or two as to why you’d be trying so desperately to get clean.”

Clean, Ray thinks, eyes wide, fingers touching the place on his wrist where his nails cut the skin. He hasn’t felt clean in a very long time but it _hurts_ to have Rip interrogate him about it like it’s another inconvenience that needs to be taken care of.

Rip looks very surprised when Ray stands up abruptly, shaking his head as he makes for the door. “Thank you for the concern,” Ray says, voice uneven, “But I don’t need an intervention. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

 _Son of a bitch_ , Ray thinks, because it seems like Rip ordered the rest of the team to be prepared for Ray to storm out – they’re all watching him and Ray can’t stand to look a single one of them in the eyes, suddenly spiteful, wondering why it took them so long to notice and so long to _care_. “Please get out of my way,” he tells Stein, softening slightly under the old man’s gaze. “Please.”

Stein steps aside but not before he places a hand on Ray’s arm, saying “I wish you’d talk to us.”

Ray doesn’t offer up any more apologies or explanations. He simply returns to his room; he can hear Rip’s voice in his head as he spends an eternity in the shower, hoping to convince himself that one day, he’ll really be clean.

-

Sara is waiting on his bed when Ray returns from a simple recon mission. Her legs are crossed and she’s tossing a stress ball between her hands, looking up as Ray closes the door. “Hey,” she greets him, taking in his appearance, a slight smile curving the corner of her mouth. “Can we talk?”

“I need to shower,” Ray says, hoping that it’ll make her leave. She only shrugs. “I can wait.”

He doesn’t argue with that. If he takes long enough she’ll up and leave, Ray figures, but as he towels himself off and changes into clean clothes, he can hear her humming to herself.

Ray turns his back to her as he roots around in his dresser for a pair of socks; Sara’s voice breaks through to him as she says “Ray, please.”

He makes himself sit down on the bed but on the far end, safely putting a distance between the two of them that makes Sara’s mouth purse unhappily, for some reason, but Ray waits for her to talk so that they can get whatever this is over with. She maintains her silence, though, until Ray feels nervous enough to clear his throat, eyes darting between Sara and the door.

She surprises him; she always surprises him. “C’mere,” Sara says, grabbing Ray by the shoulder. It’s unexpected enough that Ray doesn’t have the presence of mind to protest as Sara tugs him down, guiding his head into her lap, her kind eyes staring down at him as Ray settles on the bed, uncomfortably glancing away. “I miss you, you know?”

“I’m right here,” Ray replies, confused, but then Sara shakes her head. “No, I mean _you_. Not timid, skittish Ray – I want _you_ back. All of your parts.”

I don’t have them all, Ray thinks. They got lost.

“Believe it or not,” Sara tells him softly, “I know what happened to you. I’ve seen it happen before.”

Ray feels like a child when he curls up tightly, arms wrapped securely around his body. Sara quiets down and after a moment, she moves up behind him, her forehead pressed against the back of his neck. “You don’t have to talk about it,” she murmurs, “But I think you should, even if it’s with me.”

He’s forgotten why he was ever anxious around Sara. She doesn’t know it but she always seems to have the right words at her disposal; Ray is surprised to find that he feels very safe with her against his back, her hands hesitant to touch him. He wonders if that’s because she’s afraid of overstepping things or because she’s unwilling to be any closer to him.

“Can we not?” Ray asks, his eyes closed as he lets himself take Sara’s hand and hold it. “Not tonight?”

“Sure,” she agrees, her breath ghosting across Ray’s skin. “Someday, though. It’ll be good for you. I’ll be waiting.”

Ray whispers “Thank you,” and that night, he sleeps more soundly than he has in a while, sharing the bed with Sara.

-

(Rip had snapped “Don’t be sorry, be _better_ ,” after the mission that went wrong and Ray had resolved to do just that. He thinks, now, that he went about it all wrong. He’s still disappointing everyone, despite trying his hardest.)

-

He doesn’t think that they _know_ , apart from Rip and Sara. Rip knows because it’s his job as captain to know and Sara is scarily perceptive, but the rest of them, the rest of their ragtag band of misfits, they only know that something is _wrong_. They don’t have the whole story but it makes Ray want to hide from their prying eyes anyway, wishing he’d been better at making himself seem normal. He’s never been very good at lying and he’s trying, he really is, but it’s hard. Sometimes he forgets that he’s meant to be smiling and once he makes himself aware of all the little things he’s doing wrong, he feels more than a little ashamed of being such a burden.

It surprises him when it’s Snart that raises an eyebrow at him the first time he manages a genuine laugh. Ray has never quite been able to figure him out but there’s something almost like understanding in Snart’s eyes when their gazes meet.

Things are different. Ray wonders if things are always going to be different. He wonders if he’ll wake up one day and forget why he was so sad.

-

Rip seems to be keeping a close eye on Ray since the intervention. Interventions, Ray thinks, are for people with problems.

The constant defeat against Savage is weighing everyone’s spirits down and it’s a little perverse, the thrill of relief that Ray gets from realizing they’re all too busy planning their next move to pay any significant attention to him. It’s a bad thing to think and it makes guilt rise, acrid and acidic, in the back of Ray’s throat.

He thinks about Earth, about 2016, unable to help but wonder if he’s missed at all. He’d like to think that Felicity is going about her life happily but it would be nice if she’d spare him a thought, but Ray pushes those selfish thoughts away. He thinks about his city and all the people living in it that couldn’t care less about Ray Palmer and it makes him feel very alone.

Kendra makes him feel less alone. They don’t talk about it but Ray thinks that they have a lot in common; they’ve both lost loved ones and Ray can see her eyes turn sad when she thinks that nobody is looking.

“I’m tired of it,” she tells him, the two of them sitting across from each other at a table without much to say. “Losing. Losing _people_.”

She’s lost her son and she’s lost her soulmate but at least, Ray reminds himself, she’ll find Carter again. It’s their destiny and isn’t that a funny thing, destiny? He wonders what his has in store for him. “I know,” he sighs, tinkering with the disassembled parts of Snart’s gun on the table, not particularly in the mood to fix it up just yet. “You think it’d get easier, eventually, but it doesn’t.”

Her eyes are on him, ancient and innocent all at once. Her hand grasps his tightly, turns it over; Kendra’s fingers trace his palm and Ray doesn’t shy away from the touch. “It’s strange,” she elaborates. “I was a mother. I _am_ a mother but I don’t remember any of it. Nothing. How can I be a whole person when I have so many lives?”

Her voice breaks.

Ray is gentle when he says “You only have to be you. That’s enough.”

-

He wants to believe in this mission. As of late, Ray has a hard time believing in anything.

-

Ray thought that he’d been dealing with it – _it_ – until he’s in his room and something inside of him decides to fall apart.

You can only repress things for so long. He should’ve known, but it takes him by surprise to realize that he’s unable to breathe and standing unsteadily on his feet, gripping the corner of his dresser to steady himself when the sharp whiplash of shame hits him.

He couldn’t have stopped it, same as he can’t stop the memories from haunting him, but he’s putting his hands across his face before he can realize what he’s doing as he tries to keep his wheezing breath quiet.

Triggers, Ray thinks. Sometimes, they aren’t necessary. Sometimes the pain creeps up on you without any warning.

-

“I think I need to talk to someone,” he says to Sara, his voice soft.

-

He tells the story slowly, choosing his words carefully. It’s not Sara that sits with him but Kendra and her presence is more comforting than Ray would have dared to ever imagine. He has to grasp for the right words, tongue thick in his mouth, his hands in his lap as Kendra waits patiently.

Her pain is different from his but it doesn’t make her any less sympathetic.

Ray starts at the beginning, an anxious lilt to his voice. _After I got captured, they took me to a warehouse. I could smell the rot in the air, but it was – I could smell blood, too. My blood._

Kendra doesn’t take his hand or ask him anything. She’s a rock; steady and patient and kind, letting Ray take his time. _I thought I could handle it, that I was strong enough, but it wasn’t – it wasn’t just that they were hurting me. It was…they were taking something from me and I can’t get it back. I don’t feel like myself._

It’s a short, sad story. Kendra embraces him and says “You’re okay,” as her fingers stroke Ray’s hair, his cheek pressed to her shoulder. “You’re going to be okay.”

When it’s Kendra making those impossible promises, Ray finds himself believing her.

-

 _Whore_.

Ray looks at himself in the mirror and is unsure of what he sees looking back.

There are no marks on him, he reminds himself. There are no scars.

His face is pale and gaunt. His face is a little traitor, his eyes wide and dark and hopeless. Ray can’t make himself look away. He wants to see what _they_ saw.

 _Whore_ , he thinks curiously, tilting his head. _Victim_ , he tries next, but he doesn’t like how it sounds. _Survivor_ feels all wrong.

He remembers talking to Sara about missing parts. Ray thinks _whorevictimsurvivor_ and the noise in his head is overwhelming, a dozen contradicting voices demanding that he makes up his mind. His hands brace him on the sink as he leans forwards, watching his eyes closely, wondering how he could look so normal on the outside when his head is filled with turmoil.

“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” he says to his reflection; it stares back at him, pallid and mocking.

-

“Fighting,” Sara emphasizes, “Is about control. It’s not all about knowing how to kill someone; sometimes you gotta know how to leave them alive.”

Ray stands across from her, barefoot and shirtless, a little apprehensive as Sara picks up a staff. She seems so calm, but Ray knows that there’s something with sharp little teeth living inside of her. “We’ll start with hand to hand.”

He doesn’t win, of course, not against Sara. Ray doubts that he ever could but he walks away bruised and satisfied, finding himself smiling absently as he flexes his sore knuckles.

She’s clever. Ray isn’t being taught how to fight. He’s grateful for it.

-

(“Getting hurt, that’s life. That’s the easy part. You don’t have to do anything and it still happens.”

Ray can’t sleep. Sara is up late most nights, her voice clear in the darkness. “Getting back up, that’s what matters. That’s where you have a choice. Let it kill you-“

She meets his eyes, half-smiling as if they share a secret, “Or let it make you strong.”)

-

He makes the choice without thinking about it. They’re lost in space and time, flying blind, all of them brave because they don’t have any other choice. Ray can feel his heartbeat pounding against the cage of his ribs but being brave doesn’t mean being unafraid; it means doing something despite being scared. Ray is tired of being afraid.

There is a fight because there is always a fight and Ray didn’t have time to suit up, stuck with doing emergency repairs with Jax as the others attempted to keep the intruders at bay.

Ray thinks about Sara and how she’s a living weapon. He thinks about Sara and her bright smiles, her cruelty bred from her pain – he thinks about how she’s overcome that animal part of herself bit by bit.

He doesn’t have his suit. He fights anyway.

There are bruises swelling on his face when Kendra and Stein come rushing in and Jax is beside him, nursing what is most likely a sprained wrist, but Ray falls into Kendra’s hug with a relieved laugh, already forgetting how the terror had threatened to drag him under.

“I’m proud of you,” Kendra whispers, drawing back to put her fingers to Ray’s bruised temple. Her smile is beautiful. “Be proud of yourself, now.”

-

Sara kisses him in the dead of night. Her hair is wet from the shower, her knuckles busted from a fight. Ray can feel the shape of her body pressing against his own, her clothes clinging to her skin. She’s warm all over, her fingers twining in Ray’s hair to bring him down, closer.

Ray knows that she’s lonely. He’s lonely, too.

They don’t last long but Ray never thought that they would. Sara sleeps in his bed and Ray will let his fingers trace her sleeping face sometimes, knowing that her peaceful features are an illusion. She’s at war with herself every waking moment.

“I’m a bad idea,” she says, her hair disheveled from sex, her knees tucked to her chest. Ray has never thought of her as vulnerable but she looks it, now, hugging herself close to shield herself against an unknown threat.

He reaches out and rests one hand on her bare shoulder. “I don’t believe that,” Ray tells her, watching as she turns her head to smile imperceptibly at him. She told him, once, that she didn’t think she belonged anywhere.

She was wrong. She will always be wanted here.

“You’re sweet,” Sara whispers as she turns to face Ray, putting their foreheads together. “I wish I had met you sooner, you know?”

Ray has never met the old Sara Lance, before death sunk its claws into her. This is the Sara he knows; the fierce and lost one, aching to find a home. “I don’t,” he replies, tilting his head up to give her a chaste kiss. “I like the Sara I know.”

-

Snart can go to hell.

Ray bites out that furious sentiment after enduring one too many sharp words from Snart’s mouth; he’s beyond exhausted with listening to Snart talk about things he doesn’t understand, but it’s when he says “We’ve all got things to cry about, how about you suck it up-“ that Ray loses his patience.

Whatever Snart has been through, Ray doesn’t want to hear about it. He doesn’t want Snart’s input on healing when the man wears his burdens like a tattered suit of armor. 

“Yeah?” Ray fires back, seething. “What do you suggest? That I should try to be more like you? Pretend like I don’t _feel_ anything until I’m choking on it?”

Snart turns to regard him with a sharp look in his eyes. He shakes his head ruefully, something like a smile twisting his mouth into an unpleasant shape. “Nah,” he dismisses, taking one look back at Ray before crossing the threshold out of the room. “Don’t be like me. You’re better than that, Boy Scout.”

-

There’s a moment, somewhere, that stays with Ray long after they leave Switzerland in 1953.

Sara makes him laugh and Ray is a little surprised by how his body moves and breathes without stuttering at all; he feels as free as he thinks Kendra does when she’s flying, soaring high overhead and taking in the sky above.

His smile is wide and Sara stands beside him, raising herself up on her toes to poke at Ray’s dimple. She says “There you are,” and Ray doesn’t understand what she means until her smile bleeds from bright to soft and she murmurs “I’ve been looking for you.”

The sunlight reflects off her hair when Ray hugs her; quietly, laughing into her neck, he says _I’ve been looking for me, too_.

-

Ray has always wanted a family.

He does, now. It’s an unconventional and strange one with more than a few lasting tensions to work out; Snart would have left him for dead, once. Sara was going to kill Stein. They aren’t a perfect unit and while they may never get there, they’re better than they were and Ray thinks that that’s the most important thing to remember and value.

Sara smiles more brightly, now. Kendra doesn’t seem as burdened by her powers and her past as she used to be and Snart is almost playful in his threats, lately.

“Children,” Rip sighs mournfully, watching as Mick and Jax squabble over something no doubt unimportant, heated gestures flying everywhere. Ray tries not to smile, he really does.

“I can see that,” Sara agrees thoughtfully, sneaking a glance at Rip as he nears the point of ripping his hair out. “You did a crap job of raising us.”

“Oh, don’t start.”

Rip walks away with an air of finality. Ray lets Sara bump shoulders with him and feels, more than ever, at home.


End file.
